


With No One to See Us

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dreamwalking, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-21
Updated: 2010-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:19:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's always like this, them coming together like a battle clash</p>
            </blockquote>





	With No One to See Us

Lucifer walks the earth, and for the first time in millennia, demons can _dream_ again.

And he does. He does dream, even if it’s dangerous, even if he knows it’s downright moronic to let his guard down enough to slip into sleep. Because it’s worth it, for this. For this one thing that he thinks may be the death of him, if he lets it.

And he thinks that maybe he would.

They come together like they always do, like they can’t do anything else, drawn to each other before either can breathe a word, and it’s a like a battle clash, fierce and violent and bright and _burning_. There are soft moans and fingers dragging through hair and mouths seeking and sucking and pressing fiery kisses into smooth flesh, and they’re wrapped together in a desperate embrace that leaves both hard and aching, trembling with an overflow of emotion neither knows how to handle.

He tilts his head back on a moan, and his neck is attacked, teeth nipping at his pulse, causing a bright, sharp flare of pain that makes his toes curl even as a tongue darts out to lick and soothe the spot. Sounds that no demon should ever be heard making are torn from him, and there is a huff of unsteady laughter against his neck.

“Damn it, angel,” he growls, his hands grasping, fumbling with buttons and zippers and the angel is still _laughing_ , damn it all, and he gives up, uses too much strength to tear the jeans apart and shove them down past narrow hips, and he doesn’t get much further than that before the angel is reaching around, reaching _down_ , sliding a hand past the waistband of his suit pants and cupping his ass, tugging him forward so that they’re pressed together again, and then he’s being kissed, he’s being _devoured_ , and he thinks he could die right here and he’d never notice, too caught up in the angel he’s wrapped around.

It’s a rule they have, a no-snapping-fingers-allowed rule, that inevitably has the angel shoving him back impatiently, just far enough and just long enough that he can undo Crowley’s belt and unsnap his pants with more dexterity than the demon has _ever_ managed in his presence, and he doesn’t even bother to shove the pants down and out of the way before yanking him back in by the belt loops, bringing them together with what should be bone-crushing, earth-shattering force.

They haven’t gotten far with their clothing, too greedy, too desperate for _more_ and _please_ and _now_ , but it’s enough, just enough, that the angel can reach down through his silk boxers and pull at his cock, stroking it with a swift, sure rhythm, and Crowley is helpless to do anything but breathe an anxious noise into the angel’s mouth as he kisses him again, biting at the bottom lip and dipping his tongue inside as those lips part on a broken sound of want.

His own hands slides down, one clutching at the angel’s hip, the other grasping the hard length of his cock, stroking in time to his own thrusts into the angel’s fist, and it’s hard and messy and frantic in a way Crowley prides himself on never being. “Ah, angel!” he cries as he loses himself in sensation, pleasure coiling deep in his belly, spiraling out and throwing him into sharp ecstasy, and then he’s moaning deep in his throat, coming so powerfully he sees sparks behind his eyes. “ _Gabriel!_ ”

And the name, that name cried out with more reverence than any self-respecting demon should be capable of, is all it takes for the angel to follow him over the edge with a grunt and a brutal thrust.

They come down together, arms wrapped around each other, his face buried in Gabriel’s neck though he has no recollection of moving to put it there. The angel’s fingers trace down the curve of his cheek, under his chin, encouraging him to look up, and when he does he’s met with sparkling honey-colored eyes and lips that curve into a smile. There is a sigh, a soft exhale that Crowley knows is _goodbye_. "See you later, lover,” Gabriel murmurs, familiar, gentle laughter in his voice, and then he’s kissing Crowley once more, somehow both forceful and affectionate, brutal yet so very warm. Crowley has just enough time to sink into it, to want to _disappear_ into it, and then the angel is gone with a soft brush of wings, and he wakes up alone, with a yearning ache inside that he knows goes soul-deep.

-  



End file.
